


Foster Care

by magicconchshel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Foster Care, Light Angst, M/M, Orphans, Pre-Relationship, fall of praxus, i just wanted to explore more of what happened after praxus u know, post praxus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29643099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicconchshel/pseuds/magicconchshel
Summary: After Praxus fell, someone had to take care of Bluestreak.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl (Transformers)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	Foster Care

**Author's Note:**

> imma just be exploring some of my headcanons at this point

When Jazz pulled Bluestreak from the rubble, he had not expected the mechling to take such a liking to him. He had latched onto him, literally, and had not let go until much later. Jazz had been asked to chaperone him back to Iacon and they had been together since. 

The mechling was identified at Bluestreak. He was on the cusp of sparklinghood and younglinghood, an age where he could do certain things on his own, but still needed the constant support of a caretaker. 

The first few cycles out of the med bay were the hardest. Jazz had been given a decacycle off to adjust to the role of a foster-creator and spent the large part of it cooped up in his quarters. Bluestreak was not yet ready to be seen by others. 

The new role of “foster-creator” was frightening in many ways. Despite having little to no experience with younglings, Jazz had been thrusted into the role. It was a matter of scarcity rather than choice. 

Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing. He knew the basics. Feed it, make sure it doesn’t die. Beyond that, he was in over his helm. 

Jazz had set up a cot for him in the living area while he recharged in his own berth in the other room. Bluestreak, having built no schedule yet, spent most of his nights awake. 

The first night, while Jazz laid in his berth, Bluestreak had gotten out of his cot and came to stand in the doorway of Jazz’s room, unsure of what to do. Jazz knew he was there, his sensors were far too keen to ignore him. He considered getting up to ask him what he needed, but decided not to in favor of observing. 

Bluestreak eventually puttered over to the berth and hoisted himself up. He laid down next to Jazz, on top of the sheets, and went into recharge. He did not move the rest of the night. 

This became a habit for Bluestreak. Halfway through the night, he would crawl into the berth and recharge. It would have to be corrected at some point, but for now, if this was the way Bluestreak chose to rest, then so be it.

The following few cycles, Jazz mulled over the idea of taking Bluestreak outside. The medical team had warned Jazz against bringing him outside until he was absolutely certain Bluestreak could handle it. Technically, Jazz wasn’t certain, but if he was feeling antsy, then surely Bluestreak was as well. Plus, the mechling had nothing to play with. He spent most of his waking joors silently following Jazz from room to room. 

The first time he tried bringing Bluestreak outside, he let the mechling trail behind him as he led him around the base. He stayed at his side, but would pause whenever he saw a group of mecha. He would either grab at Jazz’s leg or stop and stare. 

No one waved them down to talk. They knew it was not the time. But there were some who would stare back at Bluestreak. Word had spread pretty quickly that a Praxian survivor was on base. 

  
Quickly realizing the mechling’s stress, Jazz took him back to his quarters and promised to try again another cycle.

When that cycle came, Jazz took one of Bluestreak’s blankets and wrapped it around his frame and held him while he walked. Bluestreak was able to look around, but also hide his face plates in Jazz’s chassis if he needed to. 

This time, they made it outside. Jazz looked down and asked Bluestreak if he wanted to go further, they could go to the store if they did. Bluestreak nodded. 

Jazz walked them down the street. It was late in the cycle, there were not many other mecha about. 

When they got inside, Jazz began showing Bluestreak the displays, asking if he liked anything. Bluestreak kept his servos firmly clasped to his frame, not wanting to touch anything despite Jazz demonstrating that it was ok. 

He took him to some shelving with bedding on it, telling him to pick out a new blanket. The only bedding he had was what the med bay had given him. Bluestreak had some trouble picking something out. Jazz handed him a few different colors and textures until settling on a plush white blanket. 

They continued on in the store. Jazz grabbed a few more reusable sparkling-friendly energon lids. He took Bluestreak over to the toy section. It was small, but he took the time to show him every display. 

Bluestreak showed no interest in anything except for the tower of miniature alt modes. Jazz presented them to Bluestreak and demonstrated with the tip of a digit the moving capabilities of certain models. Bluestreak reached out and Jazz let him hold one. 

He knelt and put Bluestreak on the ground. Below the display, there were individual models packaged. He held out each one, letting Bluestreak inspect. The mechling picked out two, a high speed pursuit vehicle and a racecar. 

Jazz paid for their things and went back to base. When they got back, Bluestreak spent the rest of the night winding up his cars and letting them speed across the room until hitting a wall. 

* * *

Mirage was knocking on his door mid cycle with a few data pads in his servo. Jazz answered the door and let him inside. 

Bluestreak lied on the ground, playing with his toy models. He glanced up at Mirage as he entered. The mech looked back, but did not say anything. 

“This everything?” Jazz asked. 

“Just about. It’s all summary, but it’ll get you up to speed,” Mirage replied. 

Jazz would be returning to light duty soon. Bluestreak’s stay looked like it was going to be long term, and if that were the case, he wouldn’t be leaving the base on missions for a while.

In the meantime, Jazz would be on light duty. He could direct and assign teams and attend meetings, but could not go on missions himself. As Bluestreak got older, that would change. 

Mirage left. Jazz turned back to Bluestreak. 

“That was Mirage,” he said. “You’ll probably start seeing him more often.”

Bluestreak looked at him, but did not say anything. He rarely spoke. 

While he was anxious on how Bluestreak would handle it, Jazz was eager to get back to work. He was eager to integrate himself and Bluestreak into a sustainable routine. 

Jazz had always thought about sparklings, but had never expected himself to have one. Especially not now and not under these circumstances. Regardless, he was thankful. Bluestreak had fulfilled Jazz’s desire for stability in ways he did not fully understand. 

He had never had a set schedule. He recharged and refueled and showered whenever he felt like it. But the responsibility of caring for another being had whipped him into shape faster than boot camp ever could. 

* * *

When Prowl first awoke in a medical tent on the outskirts of Praxus, he could not move nor speak. When he awoke the second time, he was in the same place, but found he had basic rotary function of his arms and servos. A medic appeared and began asking questions. He could not answer. 

The third time, Prowl awoke in a hospital room. It was quiet, no noise even beyond the door. He could move his helm and arms. Nurses appeared at his side, but did not ask questions. They told him his vocalizer was broken. The new one was on its way and would be installed as soon as it arrived. 

It was the fourth time he woke that Prowl realized Bluestreak was missing. He rose in a frenzy. The nurses came running in to restrain him. One of them began administering sedatives. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. 

The fifth time, Prowl tried to speak and was successful. There were several nurses there to hear him. He explained who he was and what he needed. One of them took frantic notes. He asked for Bluestreak or Smokescreen, asking if they were alive. 

The nurses looked at each other and told him they would look into the data bases for survivors of those names, but the fatalities were overwhelming. Prowl was discouraged, but not diminished. 

The next cycle, a nurse came into his room to tell him that they had a “Bluestreak” in their database. They were unsure if it was the same mechling he was referring to. This mechling had been found in Praxus, but had spoken very little and was not old enough to know any personal information aside from his name. Once Prowl was healthy enough for travel, they would take him to Iacon to see if the mechling recognized him. 

Prowl was hopeful. He waited patiently for his condition to improve and when it did, he was given the OK from his doctors to travel to Iacon.

* * *

Jazz was reading a report in his living area when he got the ping from Ratchet explaining the situation. He set the datapad down on the table in front of him and told him he understood. 

Bluestreak was in the next room over, playing with his models. Jazz craned his helm and watched him for several kliks. He seemed to be at peace.

Unsure of how he would react, Jazz approached carefully. 

“Hey,” he said. “What’cha doing?”

“Racing,” Bluestreak said. He rarely spoke in full sentences. 

“Well, I, uh, I have something to tell you.”

Bluestreak looked up from his cars and waited for Jazz to continue. 

“I just got word from Ratchet that a mech was found in Praxus. They think you two are related. He’s coming here to see you.”

Bluestreak did not say anything, but nodded. He usually nodded, only this time, he had more vigor. 

* * *

The mech’s transport arrived on time. Jazz received the ping to bring Bluetreak to the med bay. He wrapped the mechling in his blanket and carried him there. 

First Aid was waiting at the entrance to lead them the rest of the way. They were keeping the mech towards the back, away from prying optics. 

Jazz looked around as they walked, trying to identify who this mech was. He didn’t see any Praxians. 

Once they neared the back wall, Bluestreak began to squirm. Jazz looked down. He had never done this before. Jazz set him on the ground and as soon as he did, Bluestreak ran. 

He almost went after him, but stopped when he saw where he was headed. Next to Ratchet, there was a black and white Praxian. He was not facing them, but turned around when he heard Bluestreak’s cries. 

When Prowl looked down, he saw Bluestreak at his pedes, crying with his arms up. Prowl gasped softly and picked him up. Bluestreak clung to him. 

Jazz’s walk slowed a bit when he saw it. He stopped to stand by Ratchet who muttered a soft, “About time.”

There was no doubt in anyone’s minds now. Prowl was who he said he was and Bluestreak was his brother. 

Jazz was silent as Ratchet spoke to Prowl. He informed him that he could take Bluestreak into his custody if he wanted, but in the meantime, he would have to remain in the med bay. His original medic may have authorized him for travel, but he still had a long way to go if he was going to make a full recovery. 

The Autobots were handing out financial compensations to any survivors of Praxus as well as an invitation to join their ranks in any department of their choosing. Ratchet urged him to consider the opportunity.

Jazz knew it would be the best option for both of them. With no family or friends to help them out, the financial compensation would not last long. The Autobots would be their best chance. 

Prowl nodded and promised to think about it. Ratchet took them away to a private room. 

* * *

Jazz went to his quarters alone that night. 

As he was getting ready for recharge, he heard a knock at the door. At first, he thought he had imagined it, it was so small, but it relented. 

He opened the door and had to look straight down to see who it was. Bluestreak bypassed him at the entrance and wandered back into his quarters. 

“What are you doing?” Jazz asked.

“I need my toys.”

Bluestreak passed him again, this time with a model in each servo. Jazz stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. 

“Woah, you shouldn’t be wandering around the base by yourself. I’ll take you back, come on.”

Jazz carried Bluestreak in one arm down to the med bay. The mechling happily played with his cars while he waited. 

“Alright, which room are you in?” Jazz asked when they arrived at the med bay. 

Bluestreak pointed. He took him to the designated room, but as he was about to open the door, it opened for him. Prowl was standing in the doorway, looking surprised.

“Sorry, I was just-” Jazz started. 

“Bluestreak,” Prowl said. “I’m sorry, did he disturb you?”

“It was no trouble. Mechling just wanted his toys.”

Jazz placed Bluestreak on the ground and let him return to the private room. Prowl stayed where he was. 

“Thank you for bringing him back,” Prowl said. “I had fallen into recharge and had not realized he left.”

“It’s alright, no trouble at all. He just wanted to get his toys.”

“He told me you have been watching over him in my absence. I thank you for that as well.”

“Ah, it’s no problem.”

“But still, I am greatly indebted to you.”

This mech was young. Jazz was young too, so it felt odd to refer to another grown mech as ‘young’, but that’s what he was. He couldn’t be more than a few orns into adulthood. 

“No, please, it really was no problem.”

Prowl paused and looked at him. “If you say so. Bluestreak can be a handful at times. He enjoyed his time with you.”

Jazz disagreed with the statement that Bluestreak was a handful. Mechling hardly did anything. Ever. But the statement that he enjoyed his time with Jazz. Well, that was new. 

“Did he? I’m glad,” Jazz said. 

“He did. He was just telling me about it. I was worried Bluestreak would have been subjected to less than adequate care, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

Jazz was taken aback by that. He was flustered by it. 

“Yeah? I’m, uh, glad to hear.”

Prowl looked behind him into the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to put Bluestreak to recharge.”

“Yeah, of course.”

They bid each other goodnight and Jazz went back to his quarters. It was not the last he saw of either of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> its not perfect but, i had to do it u know


End file.
